


Fuck Birthdays!

by eclipsedheart



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipsedheart/pseuds/eclipsedheart
Summary: It's Theresa's birthday, and she's unusually grouchy. Bernard however is determined to make it better.





	Fuck Birthdays!

**Author's Note:**

> I was happily surprised that there were others who liked these two as well. I thought they had the most beautiful chemistry and was disappointed it seems they (the actual canon pairing!) have so little fandom love. So I decided to put up another one I wrote about them, now that I know there is an audience for it. ;) 
> 
> I do intend to continue this, whenever I have time between other projects. :)

 

* * *

Bernard stepped inside Theresa's office, shut the door, and sat down.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Bernie. I'm working."

"Something is wrong. You've been tense and touchy since this morning, and you're more or less chain-smoking. What's the matter?"

"Just my past coming back to haunt me. It's… it's nothing, really."

"But?"

She shrugged, smiled self-depravingly and shook her head as she exhaled a cloud of smoke and then put out the cigarette she was holding.

"It's my birthday today, and I'm not quite where I thought I'd be when I turned fifty, okay?"

"Fifty?" he said uncertainly.

"You know, that reaction is either very flattering, or very insulting, and I can't decide which." Theresa shook a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Yeah. Fifty. Close the door when you leave, Bernard, I need to focus on these reports."

"Are we having a meeting tonight?" he asked discreetly.

"I don't know. No. I think I'd just like to read for a bit and then go to bed."

"Just out of curiosity, what did you wish for, for this birthday?"

She smiled. It was the unhappiest smile he had ever seen.

"I thought at this point in life I would be married and my spouse would take me out to dinner, we'd dance, drink champagne, make love all night long. I know fifty isn't much of an age anymore, but it used to be a milestone. I thought when I reached that milestone I would be well rooted and in an established relationship." She shrugged. "I love what we have, Bernie. You know that. But it _is_ something that we can never take outside of our own apartments. Tonight I'm just going to allow myself to be depressed about that."

"Call me if your misery wants company," Bernard said. "Happy birthday."

" _Fuck_ birthdays," Theresa said distinctly and lit yet another cigarette.

As Bernard left her office, he wondered what he could do to cheer her up. No, they couldn't take their relationship outside the walls of their apartments, but that didn't mean he couldn't give her a birthday to remember, for good reasons only.

* * *

"You… are here," Theresa stated as she came home that evening, finding Bernard in her kitchen, wearing an apron and preparing a salad while the main dish was in the oven. "And for some reason I'm not even surprised."

Bernard chuckled.

"I can leave, if you like. But I was guessing you weren't in the mood to cook, and you've pulled a twelve-hour-shift today, so you'll need something more substantial than those cereals you usually eat for dinner."

" _Cereal_ is what children eat for breakfast. I eat sugar free all-grain power brans, thank you very much." There was a faint smile on her lips. "It does smell delicious though. Far better than those power brans. Thank you. How did you remember that lasagne is my favourite?"

"I like to listen when you tell me things about yourself, because you do it so rarely. And those nights when we just lie there and can't sleep are the times you're most likely to. The pasta penchant just happened to stick to my mind."

He took a step back and regarded her. " _Do_ you want me to leave?"

"No. I'm glad you're here. But is it okay if I jump into the shower really quick? I've been out reviewing decommissioned barn animals most of the evening."

"Take all the time you need," he said, taking an olive out of the salad he was preparing, gently feeding it to her. Theresa maintained eye contact as she chewed, her eyes sparkling with rousing mischief.

"I don't know how you do it," she said after swallowing, "but I feel like the sexiest woman alive whenever you're around."

"You'd better," he replied. "That happens to be how I see you. Go get that shower, and I'll finish up here."

As Theresa went to the bathroom, turning on the shower, he took out the lasagne to cool, then set the table for two, poured two glasses of wine, and put the vase with a single red rose next to her plate. Nobody had asked about the rose – people were used to seeing him carrying around all kinds of details and props to get that final touch to hosts' looks, and nobody seemed to realise this rose was real. The other gift was still safely tucked away in his pocket.

Theresa came out from the bathroom about ten minutes later. So it was certainly a quick shower. 

He cocked his head to the side and watched her intently.

"What are you looking at?" she said.

"You know, it just struck me that I've never stood right next to you when you're not wearing heels." It was true. It took about 5 inches from her height. 

She raised her index finger.

"If the next words coming out of your mouth are something along the lines of 'wow you're short', I'm warning you, I have a black belt."

"In karate?" he asked, bending down to kiss her, and it felt to her like the kiss sucked all her defiance – _and_ her breath – out of her. Her hand, still raised, slowly came to rest comfortably on his arm.

"No, just a black belt," she said, nodding to the belt of her black robe.

"Intimidating," he said and kissed her again.

"I could of course strangle you with it."

" _Now_ you're starting to be a little bit intimidating," he said. "Though you wouldn't be able to reach my neck anyway."

"You managed to incorporate a short joke anyway. I am almost impressed," Theresa said.

"Yeah?"

"I said almost," she reminded him, reached up to kiss him again, and enjoyed it when he pulled her closer up against his body. He looked so soft and docile, but oh, there were some muscles of steel underneath, and this man definitely knew how to make perfect use of every part of himself. She was sometimes surprised nobody suspected anything just from the way she walked the day after their nights together. "By the way, I really hope you plan on being the dessert."

"Let's take one course at a time, shall we?" he said, patting her where her anatomy was mostly pat-friendly. Theresa smiled, tried to look serious, then decided she had no reason trying to look serious, and grinned broadly instead.

Bernard loved it when she dropped the serious façade for a bit. Her seriousness was a strength at the job, but he wished she could relax more when she was off duty. She could be both witty and loveable when she lowered her walls a little, and when she grinned the way she did now, she got the most adorable wrinkles around her nose. While 'adorable' wasn't something Theresa aimed for _at all_ , sometimes, at least to Bernard, she was anyway.

"You're beautiful," he said.

"You're sweet. I can pride myself on one thing, at least."

"What is that?"

"My taste in men is flawless."

He laughed.

"Yes, it is.

He nuzzled her neck.

"Come on, birthday girl. Let's eat before we start something we can't stop."

Theresa agreed, but she did so somewhat reluctantly. Starting something they couldn't stop seemed like the perfect way to spend the rest of the evening. 


End file.
